


Literally the Worst Thing About Being Jewish

by MiloFindsSatisfaction



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiloFindsSatisfaction/pseuds/MiloFindsSatisfaction
Summary: Marvin, Whizzer and Jason go to a baseball game during Passover.





	Literally the Worst Thing About Being Jewish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/gifts).



“Why can’t we eat anything?” Marvin whined.  
“It’s Passover,” Whizzer replied.  
The two, along with Marvin’s son Jason, sat at in the stands of a baseball stadium somewhere. (Our setting designer is bad at directions and sports, and thought there was one baseball stadium everyone went to, so we are still unsure of where this baseball stadium is.) They had come to see the game, but as everyone (especially our lead researcher) knows, baseball games rely heavily on the fans and little book nerds brought against their will in the hope they will join their jock family’s joy in sports buying food. To achieve this, the showrunners, or whatever baseball stadiums have, banned outside food. This is, in general, bad for Jews, especially during that special time of year, when we, like our ancestors, feel pain or something.  
“So what?”  
“So we, like our ancestors, experience the Exodus and eat matzah.”  
Marvin crossed his arms and looked away. “Well I don’t like it.”  
“Neither did they,” Whizzer said.  
Meanwhile, Jason practiced the ma nishtana. As the youngest, he had to sing the prayer in front of his family every year. He vaguely remembered the Passover after his tonsils were taken out, when his mother wouldn’t let him talk let alone sing, but after that the spotlight was on him, glinting off his glasses and sweat and making rainbows on the seder table. Jason waited with baited breath for the day his cousins had kids and he was free once again.  
Marvin groaned. “This is literally the worst thing about being Jewish!”  
Jason’s bar mitzvah teacher had taught him a trick to memorizing a few years previous; do something specific for each part of the Torah portion, repeat it every time, and if he remembers what he did, he can remember the portion. Jason tried different things, but the only way he could remember was if he ate a specific food for each section. He’d started using this trick for the ma nishtanah, too, after he made it through his entire portion with no stumbles.  
“I think you’re forgetting the 1940s,” Whizzer said.  
The problem, then, was where Jason was to get food. There was nothing Kosher-for-Passover in the stadium, nothing he could eat.  
“Where did you get that?” Marvin asked, leaning over Whizzer to his son.  
Jason took a bite out of an apple. “Get what?”


End file.
